First Impressions
by Spiritus Scriptor
Summary: We all know how highly Harry thinks of himself, but what does everyone else think of Chicago's only wizard for hire? These are the stories of Dresden meeting various characters, told from their perspective. Some soulgazing, lots of snark.
1. Michael

**A reupload of chapter 1! It needed a rewrite...it was kind of...sparse.**

 **I had mostly forgotten about this...and then it kept getting favorited. So I picked it up again.**

 **I've slowed down reading and am mid-Dead Beat currently, so please no spoilers pretty please.**

* * *

I first met Harry Dresden on a case. He was working for the Chicago PD, and I was merely going where I was most needed. The division he worked for specialized in supernatural investigations, and I, as a Knight of the Cross, often tangled with things of an otherworldly nature myself. I stared evil in the face and offered it a second chance at redemption, and Harry…well…let's just say he was more partial to staring down evil and wiping it off the face of the earth. It was only a matter of time, really, until our paths crossed. And may God—and my wife—forgive me, I'm glad they did. Harry is a good man, despite his faults.

I was confused when he told me he was a wizard. I figured he was just into pagan "magic"—casting spells to wish ill on others, although he has assured me quite firmly that wasn't what he did.

"I would never do that, Mr. Carpenter." he told me gravely. There was a weight in his voice that I wouldn't have expected from someone as young as he was.

He told me a bit about what he did for a living—he had a side business that he ran out of an office in mid-town, offering his services as a detective and paranormal investigator, using his abilities. I thought he had _some_ credibility there. Maybe. After all, I'd fought things that most people didn't believe even existed. Maybe he did the same, without devoting his life to God.

He demonstrated a small bit of magic for me, materializing a flame in the palm of his hand and using some sort of invisible kinetic force to move a book from a shelf to the floor. There were limits to his powers, he said, and though he was powerful, he didn't have much in the way of finesse. And, he noted, he couldn't just do this on a whim. 'Big things', although he wouldn't say what those were, took a lot of energy and if he wasn't careful he could end up exhausting himself. Though he knew it was dangerous, he insisted that it was his duty to protect people since, as a wizard, he had knowledge of things beyond their understanding.

I had been right, in a sense, when I had guessed that our paths were similar.

When he was done explaining, he glanced at me as though he expected me to turn heel and walk away. I suppose he might have thought we were on opposing sides, as his faith had been condemned by mine for centuries. Harry never said as much, but for a while after our first meeting, he seemed to be a bit uncomfortable with my practices, although I suppose it was only fair. I have to admit I was a bit uncomfortable with his. When we were a bit more acquainted, he invited me over. He had some sort of alchemy lab under his apartment where he concocted potions and the like, and where his familiar resided—though he made a pointed effort to remind me several times that Bob was _not_ a familiar, as Harry needed to pay him…in trashy romance novels. Needless to say, I refused to enter on principle.

I tried never to let on that I may have been somewhat prejudiced, but I knew that gave it away. I _knew_ I was, but by that point I had already seen into his soul and knew that my concerns were largely unfounded. I hope he can forgive me.

I could only be glad I had insisted on seeing him for who he was when we first met. Otherwise, I wouldn't have had him as a friend when I needed his help, or he needed mine.

* * *

One of the first things I noticed about Harry was that he had an unsettling habit of never looking anyone in the eye for too long. As soon as someone made eye contact with him, he'd look away as if he'd been caught staring at something that he shouldn't have. I shouldn't have asked, but looking back, I'm glad I did.

"Why do you do that?" I finally asked him.

"Do what?"

"You never look anybody in the eye. It's very unnerving, Mr. Dresden."

"Would you believe me if I told you it was crippling social anxiety?" he tried awkwardly.

"You don't seem the type," I replied.

Something like shock crossed his features for a flicker of an instant before he pulled me aside into a darkened back hallway in the precinct, where we had just finished filling out paperwork regarding the case. "Look…I know you don't believe me about the whole wizard thing, but…will you promise not to laugh? Because what I'm about to tell you sounds pretty ridiculous to the uninitiated.

I promised.

He sighed and raked a hand through his dark hair. "It's a soulgaze. Well, that's what I call it. When a wizard looks into someone's eyes, they can see into their soul, and the other person sees theirs too. It can only happen once, but it's not exactly a pleasant experience."

"You're lying," I said.

"I wish I was." he replied.

"Do it then."

"No."

"I insist." I said. I wasn't budging on this topic. "I have a feeling that this is not the only time we will work together, Mr. Dresden, and if what you say is true I'd like to know who you really are. Besides, we wouldn't want it to happen when we least expect it, would we?"

He stared at me.

"The last person who saw into my soul fainted." he said plainly.

"Mr. Dresden," I said. "I am a Knight of the Cross. I can handle it."

"All right," he finally agreed. "But you'd still better sit down."

I obliged him then, sinking to the floor with my back against the wall. He sat opposite me, our legs in a jumble. For a moment, I thought how ridiculous this would look to anybody who might pass by, but we were in a fairly unused area of the building. My thoughts were interrupted when he spoke.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

I looked up to see that his eyes were closed and his legs were crossed, his forearms balanced on his knees in a grimly meditative way.

"Ready," I said.

"On the count of three," he said. "One…two…three!"

Dark, piercing eyes flew open to meet mine, a determined scowl crossing his sharp features. His gaze was nothing less than murderous—I could see why he didn't like to do this, if he could avoid it. It took a few seconds, but I began to feel a pull. It started slow and built to a dizzying speed. I half-expected to hear wind rushing in my ears as the world seemed to vanish and the only thing I could see was the hardened stare of this mysterious young man. My stomach bottomed out as our souls connected; it was like being pulled into a vacuum.

And then, God forgive us both, I saw him for what he truly was.

When it was over, the connection broke and I looked away, gasping for air as if I had just come up from deep water.

"Christ have mercy," I rasped, crossing myself. "You…you've…"

"Don't tell me," I heard him say, his voice muffled. "I don't want to know what you saw."

I looked over to find him with his head buried in his arms.

"Harry?" I asked. I guess when you get to know someone like that, any formality goes out the window.

He looked up at me with tears streaming down his face. I could only guess he had seen some part of me that harbored a slight prejudice against magic. Harry seemed like a decent young man, not at all harmful. I was about to apologize to him when he surprised me by speaking up.

"You're a _saint_ ," he murmured, gazing at me through his tears like he had seen God himself.

I certainly hadn't been expecting _that_.

"Heavens, no! Far from it. I can only do my best. " I replied with a smile. I had seen what he had been through, and it was something that could turn even the most staunchly Christian man to evil. Harry, seemingly without much positive guidance, had managed to overcome temptation and grow to be respectable and of sound morals. I wanted to comfort him as if he were a son. I wanted to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder, tell him that what I had seen in him couldn't be as bad as he thought, and that he had to be one of the strongest people I'd ever met. I had seen into the very depths of his soul and had come away knowing that Harry Dresden was a true diamond in the rough.

But I didn't. It still seemed too forward at the time. Looking back, I should have told him anyway.

I stood up after a moment and offered a hand to him. He wiped his eyes sheepishly and took it.

"Sorry," he apologized, clambering awkwardly to his feet. "It's not every day you meet somebody who's…ah…exactly what it says on the label."

"Heavens, there's no need to be _sorry_! It's confirmation that I'm doing what I'm supposed to."

"Hm," was his only reply.

We said our goodbyes and parted ways. As I walked back to my car, I knew for certain that that was not the last I'd see of Harry Dresden. I would make sure of it. If I could help one poor misguided soul, one who hadn't yet turned to evil, then so I would. I'm a Knight of the Cross. It's part of my job.

Besides, he needed a friend. You can't spend your entire life alone.

* * *

 **Tell me what you think!**


	2. Thomas

**A reupload of chapter 2. I got PMs about this noting that I had left out some things...so I hope this fixes it.**

 **Thomas is still my favorite character by far, besides Harry of course. How can you not love them both?**

* * *

Harry and I didn't exactly get to know each other well for a few years after we first met. It was at Bianca's shindig—and of course I, as the sole male bastard child, was persuaded into being the White Court's representative. Figures. Father had been trying to find inventive ways to kill me for the past decade or so.

Harry made quite the statement that evening—in fact, he was the talk of the party. It was a costume ball, and the instructions were to come as something you weren't. Well…he hit the nail on the head. If only he'd had more taste.

I was introduced to a guy wearing flaking makeup, plastic fangs, and a blue tux that looked like it belonged at a 1970's prom. I didn't even notice the cape at first. It was too short and looked like he's picked it up from the Halloween aisle in a drugstore.

"Thomas Raith, House Raith of the White Court." I introduced myself, shaking his hand. I saw him take in my getup, as well as my girlf—companion's, and I could practically _smell_ his disapproval.

"Harry Dreshden," he slurred through his fake teeth. "White Counshil."

Charmed, I'm sure.

 _Wait a minute_ , I thought as I looked at him. Beneath the makeup, he was so familiar I was sure I'd seen his face before. If only I could remember _where_. Maybe we'd met long ago and I just didn't remember it. Stranger things have happened.

"And…your friend?" I asked, hoping my reaction wouldn't show.

A middle-aged lumberjack in armor sidled forward and offered a massive metal paw, giving me a disapproving once over. His revulsion was even greater than Harry's.

"Michael Carpenter, Knight of the Cross." he said, unsmiling.

I took that as a cue to make myself scarce. "Well…I hope you both enjoy the party," I said, sauntering off with Justine on my arm.

Later that evening, Harry started a war. An actual, no-holds-barred war between the Red Court and the White Council. But not before he'd had to graciously accept his own tombstone as a gift, puked in a potted tree, and finally, having had enough, called Bianca out on her antics. To be fair, I probably would have done the same thing in his position.

That's my brother. Always the life of the party.

Of course, I tried to help him out of the mess he'd made, because that's what family does. Well, _good_ family, anyway. Besides, I kind of liked the guy. He was too much of a smartass for me not to.

* * *

By the time I saw into Harry's soul—and he into mine—I already knew he had a particular talent for getting into trouble. Just the night before, he started a shooting match between me and my lovely sister. He'd gone after me first, having been hot on my heels after mistaking me for a witch or something. Chased me for a couple of blocks before tackling me to the ground. Gotta have some admiration for him there—he was pretty fast for only being human. Must have been practicing.

I shouldn't have told him when I did—he was already pissed at me for what I did to Justine. Harry has this goddamn chivalrous streak a mile wide. It's his Achilles heel. It's not like it was my fault. He knew what I was, he knew I had to feed. It wasn't my fault Lara and Daddy Dearest had her waiting for me. I could've had anyone, but they wanted me to finish her off once and for all. I was out of it. I couldn't have known. And by the time I did…

 _You look like a person. But you're not._

Ouch. Thanks, Harry. Not like I wasn't feeling bad enough already.

Still, as long as he was here, I thought I might as well tell him.

I'm tremendously stupid sometimes.

* * *

He punched me in the face.

Of all possible reactions he could have had, I didn't expect that to be it. For a minute there I thought he was about to faint, or burst into tears. Either would have been more reasonable.

But no. He had to start a fight—I was beginning to notice a trend. And he bit me. Funny, I thought _I_ was the uncontrollable bloodthirsty monster. Well, not _actually_ bloodthirsty. But you know what I mean.

"Prove it," he snarled.

"How?" I wondered. And then I remembered. The soulgaze thing he told me about. He wanted to see for himself that I wasn't bluffing. We were technically on opposing sides of a war, after all, and deception _is_ my middle name. There was any number of tactics I could have used to gain his trust.

"Never mind," he huffed angrily. "Which way to my car?"

"Harry…"

" _What?!_ " he spun on his heel and made to throttle me.

"Jesus, I just thought…" I raked a hand through my hair, frustrated. "Fine. I'll do it."

We sat facing each other beneath our mother's portrait. I immediately had second thoughts—I didn't want Harry to know how terrified I was of what I might see.

"How long does this take?" I asked.

"Seconds, but it feels longer." He quirked an exhausted, yet apologetic half-smile. "I know you don't really want todo this. I'm sorry."

There was an unspoken _but I don't trust you_ in there, and it hurt.

"Ready?"

I wanted to protest; I'm sure my soul was no picnic either. But this was the only way I was ever going to get him to trust me, so I shut up and held my ground.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah," I said. "Let's do this."

He looked into my eyes, and just like that I was pulled into the vortex that was Harry Dresden's innermost being faster than I could blink.

And God, I wish I could forget it. Well, most of it anyway. But that's not the kind of thing you forget very easily.

My stomach bottomed out as if I were falling. It was pitch dark. A thousand needling voices rang in my ears, shrieking at me, screaming obscenities, terrible things that I'll never repeat. I'm sure Harry wouldn't want to know. Invisible claws snatched at my hair and clothes, dragging me further and further down. Still the noise persisted. The claws and talons drew blood from my arms, face, and neck. I raised my arms to my face to shield my eyes just as something shoved me from behind. I went tumbling down a steep incline and landed against something rough and cold.

I dragged myself to my feet against the stones of an old well and peered into it. The water—at least fifteen feet down—was black as ink and rippled as something broke the surface. It wasn't threatening like the trip down here had been. This presence was calm, but unbearably sad at the same time. My throat constricted as I gazed into the depths.

Something rose out of the water and pulled me in. I struggled to get away as my throat and chest grew tighter. I couldn't stand much more of this. It made me want to curl up and die.

And then …it just _stopped_.

I sat in the center of a platform overlooking a steep drop. The sky above me was bright with stars like you'd never see anywhere on earth. Bright purples, blues, and reds filled the night with nebulous clouds. Scrambling to my feet, I took a look around.

I stood amidst the ruins of what looked like it could have been a church, except for the gigantic pentacle that was inlaid in the flagstones. There was a dying fire in the very center of it, just embers. I felt its pull, faint as it was, and drew nearer. I thought for a minute it might be holy fire, until I remembered Harry's stance on religion. It was something like it, though, whether he knew it or not. It was warm and comforting, as a fire should be, but there was something more to it—a vague tinge of righteousness, determination, justice, and something else—

Love.

Upon recognizing that last one, I instantly felt sick. Of course, Harry had had a lover. She was taken by the Red Court and they had been apart ever since, but he loved her still. It was wonderful and repulsive all at the same time, even so…what I wouldn't give to feel like that about someone, if only for a moment. I had thought I might love Justine, but what I felt for her paled in comparison to this.

Here was all that was good about Harry Dresden amid so much pain and chaos and ruin, and it had almost been extinguished. There wasn't much fight left in him. I was suddenly reminded of the inscription on the tombstone that had been gifted to him—

 _He died doing the right thing_.

I couldn't let that happen. I looked around for fresh kindling. Something, anything, to get the fire going again. It would make me miserable, it might even kill me, but it would save him.

There was nothing. No trees, no grass. Nothing at all that I could use to start it up again.

I paced around the edges of the platform. Tall arches surrounded me on all sides, all broken and crumbled save one that held a tarnishing mirror firmly in place. A woman stood in its reflection. She was beautiful, tall and elegant in a trailing crimson gown. Her hair floated around her face as if she were underwater.

Our mother.

I didn't say anything. I was in shock.

"Thomas," she said.

I stepped forward gingerly, afraid that if I came too close she might disappear.

"Mother?" I whispered.

She smiled. "Come closer, my son. It's been so long."

"Mother— _mom,_ " I breathed, tears springing to my eyes.

And then something wonderful happened. She reached out of the mirror and embraced me.

"Shh," she hushed me, reaching out to brush my tears away. "There's no need for that. Oh, Tommy, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I left. But I had to. I was in danger. I only wish I could've taken you with me."

I was about to say, _so why didn't you_ when something swayed in my peripheral vision and I looked over. A lifeless body dangled from a rope in a broken archway, in a sick imitation of a gallows. It was grotesque, mutilated and decaying, but I could tell it was Harry. I let out a yell and staggered backwards, falling to my knees and sobbing for breath, unable to reconcile what I was seeing with who I now knew Harry truly was.

"No…what the fuck…no…he…" I stammered.

"My poor Harry," my mother spoke sadly. "That is how he sees himself. A dead man. A monster."

"That thing with the Council," I realized.

"Yes." She sighed. "I blame myself for his reputation."

" _Why?"_

"Because I am Margaret LeFay, and he is my son. Of course they were going to be wary of him."

"But he never even knew you," I protested, and then instantly regretted it when gave me a stern look as if to reprimand me.

"He does, he just doesn't know it. He doesn't want to know his own soul—he's terrified of even looking in a mirror for too long for fear he might see. But I've been here all this time, guiding him. I wanted him to be all the things I never was. I made so many mistakes—I just wanted him to use his powers for good." Her voice hitched on that last word. "I just wish he wasn't afraid to see what's inside."

I nodded. "He _does_ use them for good—or, he tries, at least. He's got a…um…unique way of going about it, but he does."

"I know," she smiled weakly. "But…there's all the rest of this," she gestured around us. "He hates himself, and there's nothing I can do to change that. He can only do so himself." She hugged herself as if she were cold and looked away from me. I had never seen anyone look as sad as she did now. _Harry,_ I thought. _Look what you've done. You're destroying our mother. Are you pleased with yourself?_

"Mother," I tried to reach through the mirror to her, but couldn't. She straightened and placed a hand on my shoulder instead.

"These things you've seen—the voices, the claws. Those are his demons. Memories of what he has done, reminders that he is feared by many. The well is his sorrow—all his regrets, his anger, his hurt."

"Yeah," I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably. A well of sorrow…it sounded so cliché, but the reality of it was a dull ache, a dead weight that I didn't think would ever fade. And if it made me, the inhuman monster, want to die…I couldn't imagine how bad it was for him. I mean, how the hell could he even get out of bed in the morning?

"I only wish he could see himself for what he truly is," she sighed.

"Me too," I agreed. "He's a good guy, but he blames himself for everything."

"He sees it as his responsibility," my mother corrected. "He's a wizard. He has knowledge that not many people have. So he feels a duty to protect them."

"Even if he doesn't trust them," I murmured bitterly.

"It's not your fault. You're trying to fight it. He'll see that soon enough."

"You mean you're…"

"Yes," she smiled. "I'm part of you, too. Part of both of you. I've been waiting for this day."

That did it. I started crying so hard my face scrunched up and my breath came in short gasps. My reflection in the mirror didn't even look like me—grimacing, red-faced, and ugly, but so very _human_ at the same time. _Damn it_ , I thought. I was a White Court vampire, and White Court vampires did not drop to their knees and snivel like children. We weren't human enough for that.

My mother gazed down at me in sympathy, not saying anything but keeping a steady hand on my shoulder. In that moment, I wasn't Thomas Raith, sex-crazed incubus. I was just a sad little boy who needed his mother's comfort.

And then it hit me—she was part of my soul too. Part of me had remained human. So _that's_ why I was so goddamned weird for a vampire.

It wouldn't change anything, though, not the important stuff. I'd already been turned, and if I ignored the Hunger…well, there's no telling what I might do. It was too late for me.

But it wasn't too late for them. For Harry. For Inari.

I had to help them however I could.

There was a sudden whooshing sound behind me. With that thought, the fire had roared to life again as if I had thrown a whole tree's worth of wood plus a can of gasoline on it. The flames took shape and took off from the ash pile. It soared above my head, and it was then that I got a good look at what it was.

A phoenix, reborn from the ashes.

Resilience.

 _Nice symbolism, Harry. You really do like clichés, don't you?_

The gloom surrounding me lifted somewhat. The sky was still dark, lit only by nebulous clouds, but the atmosphere was no longer ominous. I was hit with a wave of euphoria—I had just resurrected his soul, when usually what I did was exactly the opposite. Maybe there was hope for me yet. For us both.

"That's my boy," Mother said, as if reading my thoughts.

And then she took me by the hand and smiled at me one last time.

* * *

We broke from the soulgaze. It was like abruptly waking from a dream. One minute I was there, kneeling before a magical reflection of my mother, and the next I was staring into the concerned face of her son, realizing at last that I had first recognized him from her portrait. He looked so much like her, whereas I had inherited the supernatural come-hither good looks of my paternal side. Not a trace of her. Damn it.

Harry's eyes were red-rimmed and he tried to blink back tears. I'm sure I looked about the same.

"Did you see her?" I asked. The weight of all his sorrows, plus my own, left a physical ache in my chest. I had been right—I don't think it will ever completely fade. And here he was, taking it on the chin every single day of his life. But there was joy mingling in there, the things I had felt coming from the fire, light as a feather. I hoped he felt it too.

"Yeah," he said. And then he did the strangest thing—he laughed and smiled a big, genuinely happy grin. I wished I could smile like that. I started laughing too, although I couldn't figure out why. A minute ago I'd been a wreck.

"Hey," he clapped me lightly on the shoulder. "Sorry I didn't believe you."

"That's all right," was all I said in reply.

I had a brother. A normal, (mostly) sane, human brother. A friend. Somebody I didn't have to tiptoe around for fear a simple misdeed or slip of the tongue might land me in a casket.

And finally, _finally_ he trusted me. Maybe. A little.

Hey, it was something.

I was over the moon with happiness.

* * *

 **How was that for an update?**

 **All new chapter up next!**


	3. Susan

**May I present the long-awaited return to First Impressions! I have no idea why this thing is so popular...**

 **I think I've gotten requests for Murphy and Marcone chapters. I've slowed down on the series a bit and am currently mid-Dead Beat. Apparently Dresden and Murphy's first meeting shows up in Side Jobs, which I am nowhere close to yet, and I don't want to write anything until I've read it. And Marcone...**

 **I'll be honest. I hate Marcone. He's my least favorite character so far. I'll get around to him...eventually.**

 **I'll also be updating the last two chapters, which have been under revision for the past...months...so feel free to have a look at those too!**

* * *

The man I spoke to on the phone was gruff and terse—exactly what you would expect a wizard to sound like. Harry Dresden was clearly someone who did not like to be bothered with such trivial things as nosy journalists asking for tabloid-fodder interviews.

Or so I thought.

At long last, he graciously agreed to talk to me. I was to meet him at his office at two o'clock the following Wednesday, and the interview was to last no more than half an hour. That would just be time enough for him to answer my questions, but I'd take what I could get.

And so, at precisely 1:59 on Wednesday afternoon, I found myself standing at the door of Mr. Dresden's fifth-floor office in midtown Chicago. I knocked.

"Come in," said the same gruff voice I'd heard on the phone.

I opened the door and strode into the tiny corner office. A young man sat at the desk, leaning back with his hands crossed behind his head. It took every bit of my professional reserve for my jaw not to hit the floor. This guy couldn't have been more than mid-twenties, _maybe_ thirty at the most.

"Mr. Dresden?" I questioned stupidly.

"Miss Rodriguez," He cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "You were expecting me to be about a hundred years old, weren't you?"

"Well, um…when people hear the word 'wizard', they generally picture Gandalf or something," I replied, hoping he wouldn't be offended.

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and folded his hands as if he were praying. "Why don't you sit down, then, and allow me to enlighten you?" He nodded towards the chair opposite him.

He was very polite, something I hadn't expected in the slightest. Maybe he just didn't have very good phone etiquette. He remained courteous and civil throughout our conversation, even cracking a few jokes about how people often called claiming their attic was being haunted by 'great-aunt Maisie's ghost' and then practically laughed him out of the room when he took them seriously.

And then it happened. I overstepped a boundary.

"Tell me what your training was like," I said. "Were you apprenticed to someone?"

Just like that, the good-natured demeanor was gone, quicker than a door slamming. Dresden locked up completely and refused to answer anything more.

"Miss Rodriguez, I'm afraid I can't answer that question." he said abruptly.

"O…kay," I continued. "Not to pry, but is this for personal reasons? Just so I can make a note of it."

"Yes," he said gravely, his tone unwavering. I noticed he was staring at the edge of the desk.

"All right, then. Do you mind me asking what you were trained in?"

Again the stern voice answered, "Yes."

"Is there anything you _would_ be willing to tell me about your training?"

"Not really."

"Mr. Dresden," I sighed "My purpose in conducting this interview is to debunk the myths surrounding practitioners of magic. I can't do that if you won't talk to me."

"There is nothing to 'debunk'," he said coldly. "All those _myths_ have some basis in truth. Even the bad ones. Now if you'll excuse me, I think it's time we wrapped this interview up. Good day to you, Miss Rodriguez."

Oh.

I shot a glance at him and met his steely eyes. He was fairly glaring at me.

"You mean to tell me that…" I asked. He tried to look away, but I pulled him back toward me. I knew that was a bit too forward, but I'd never been able to stand people who wouldn't look me in the eye. "I'd appreciate it if you'd face me."

"Let go of me!" he shouted. "Look away! Right now!"

"What the _hell…_ "

Suddenly I wasn't in the room anymore. I was a million miles away, swooping through a horde of terrifying negative energy, as if I were on the world's most demented thrill ride. I saw… _things_ …that I'll never forget as long as I live.

And then I knew why he hadn't wanted to answer my questions.

* * *

I woke up on the floor of his office. My head was propped up on some sort of makeshift pillow, and the chair I'd been sitting in had toppled over. I turned my head. The toe of a boot was inches from my face.

"Oh, God…" I moaned.

"Are you all right?" asked a voice. Him.

I scrabbled backwards on my elbows and staggered to my feet, the room spinning as I did so.

"Stay away from me!" I shrieked, backing out of the room. Or at least, I tried to. I ended up falling flat on my ass in the middle of this lunatic's office.

He came forward, offering a hand to help me up.

"Stay away," I growled.

"You fainted," he told me. "Hit the floor pretty hard. You might have a concussion or something…"

"I said, stay _away_ from me!"

He looked taken aback and a little hurt. "With all due respect, Miss Rodriguez, this is kinda part of the job. I help people. It's what I do." He hooked one arm under my knees and another around my back, and carried me over to an armchair. "I don't know exactly what you saw, but I'm sorry."

 _Oh, only your deepest, darkest secrets, you fucking loon._

A second later he was hovering over me with a paper cone of water in hand.

"Here," he said, thrusting it at me. I took it only to get him out of my face. "Let's see…" He crouched down to meet my eyes. I looked away blearily.

"Don't," I pleaded weakly, pushing his hand away.

"Don't worry," he said. "It can only happen once. I call it a soulgaze. When a wizard looks into someone's eyes for more than a second or so, they sort of…lock in. I saw into your soul, and you saw into mine. I guess mine's in pretty bad shape." He looked at me imploringly. "Don't tell me what you saw," he added. "I don't want to know."

 _Damn right, you don't_.

"Sometimes I can't control it that well," he continued. "I start to feel the pull, and then it's up to the other person to break contact. That's why I told you to look away—nobody should have to see that, especially someone who doesn't know me from Adam."

I stared blankly at him. He probably thought I was delirious.

"So, I'm sorry. Now, let me have a look at you," he said, staring into my eyes, concern written all over his face. His eyes were dark and intense and…nice.

Nope. Not even going there.

He swept a hand toward my hair.

"Hey!" I barked, swatting it away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You're bleeding," he said. "You must have hit your head on the desk or something…"

He grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the side table and dipped it into the untouched cone of water I was still holding. The only reason I hadn't thrown it in his face was probably that I was still in shock. He swept the wet Kleenex just under my hairline, and a pain I hadn't noticed before shot through my scalp. It came away red.

"Ooh," he winced. "It looks pretty deep."

"It's fine," I said.

"Are you sure? It looks like it might need stitches."

"It's _fine_ ," I repeated adamantly.

He evidently wasn't listening. In one movement he swooped over and grabbed the bundle that he had put under my head—a ratty old coat. He put it on and crossed the room in two strides. It was only when he was standing over me again that I realized how freakishly tall he was.

"Here," he said, offering his hand. "My car's outside, I'll take you to the hospital."

"No."

"Okay…" he tried again. "I'll take you…home? You should rest."

"No."

"All right," he sighed. When he spoke again, he sounded sad. "I get it. You don't trust me. At the very least let me get you a cab."

He was _not_ going to give this up, was he?

"If you insist," I conceded with a wave of my hand, still not able to look at him. Now I knew how he must have felt minutes earlier.

In case you're wondering, I did end up with stitches that day. As he loaded me into the cab, Dresden leaned over and told the driver to take me to the hospital, paying him extra for his trouble.

I didn't have the strength to argue anymore.

* * *

I should have gone with my gut and stayed the hell away from Harry Dresden. I knew how dangerous he could be. Despite that, something about him just…drew me in. He was, if you'll pardon the horrible reference, truly great and terrible all wrapped into one. We stayed in touch over the next few months, and I eventually got a date out of him under the guise of another interview. Well…suffice to say it never ended up happening. Unless you consider running around in a thunderstorm being chased by a demon to be a date, and even then he fought to protect me. It was then that I realized he had never been a bad guy, just that he always managed to find himself in less than favorable circumstances.

It was my fault things ended up the way they did. He told me not to come. He was only doing it to protect me.

If only I had listened.

Harry, if you're out there… I love you.

I'm sorry.

* * *

 **Hope this lived up to everybody's expectations!**

 **Next up will _probably_ be Butters, but I'm not promising anything. **

**Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.**


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